


like the stars miss the sun in the morning skies

by GladysJones



Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: M/M, fredsythe, parentdale, this is explicit i feel like i should mention that again
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-02
Updated: 2019-04-02
Packaged: 2019-12-30 18:42:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,036
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18321035
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GladysJones/pseuds/GladysJones
Summary: FP Jones is headed to basic training tomorrow morning, but before he goes, he has one last stop to make.





	like the stars miss the sun in the morning skies

**Author's Note:**

> “Every moment was a precious thing, having in it the essence of finality.”  
> ― Daphne du Maurier

He raises his hand to knock on the door, but it swings open before he can.

"I heard your bike." Fred is dressed in a pair of blue flannel bottoms and from the looks of it, FP knows he isn’t wearing anything underneath. Fred looks past him and towards the bike. A large black bag tied unceremoniously to its back.

"Aren't you going to invite me in?" He attempts a smile, but it falls quickly with the tense silence. All through junior high the Andrews had kept their front door unlocked but when Artie got sick, he wanted Bunny to get into the habit of locking it. FP spent high school ringing the doorbell or knocking to appease Mr. Andrews, while knowing that Bunny had left a spare key under the doormat for him if he ever needed it. Asking to enter Fred's house was like asking permission to breathe and he was suffocating.

"I don't know." He doesn’t make eye contact. He can't look him in the eyes and FP knows exactly what that means. Fred was the same way when his brother died...and then his father just a year after that. He knows that Fred doesn't make eye contact when he's been crying. And he hates it. He hates that this time he's the cause of it.

There are so many things he wants to say. Conversations that they should have had years ago, but his mind is moving too quickly to form a sentence. Thoughts are intersecting each other. Words are overlapping, climbing on top of one another until he can't make sense of his own thoughts.

... maybe he shouldn't have come

... maybe it would be better for both of them if he had just left

... but then Fred steps aside and grants him entrance to the house and he finally catches his breath when he steps through the threshold. This house was the only place he ever felt safe.

He exhales. "Thanks."

"So you're really leaving, huh?"

"I am." It felt weird walking through the Andrews' house without its usual buzz. He can easily remember the rambunctious summers spent in the backyard - Bunny bringing them lemonade and triangled sandwiches at lunch time. Blowing out candles in the fall for his birthday. Snowball fights all winter long. Rainy spring days wrapped up on the couch watching old Bond movies - Artie had all of the 007 films on VHS - he regarded them as some of the finest specimens of cinematography.

He had grown up in the safety of this house, but it wasn't his, he was just borrowing their life.

Fred pulls out a couple of glasses and turns the tap on until they're both full. He hands one to FP and keeps the other one for himself. Neither one of them drinks, their stomachs turning too much to handle the chilled liquid.

"So... where exactly are you going?" The forced small talk is almost more painful than silence.

"Basic training." He wonders if Fred can see the way his hands are shaking the glass - the water lashing against the edges. He sets the cup down on the counter just in case he can. "Down south."

"What do you do there?"

FP swallows around the thick buildup of spit in his mouth. He doesn’t want to be having this conversation. Not with Fred. "They teach you how to act like a soldier. How to shoot. How to take cover. How to 'yes ma'am' and 'no sir' the right way."

Fred smiles at the thought of FP responding to questions with a swift sir or ma'am as he stands at attention in a neatly pressed uniform. When they had exhausted all the 007 films, they made a habit of watching old war movies and Fred always found those scenes of particular interest. He could do without the rest of the movie though - all the killing and violence. It was probably why he was so scared now.

There's a beat and Fred realizes he's thinking about the exact same thing. FP is just as scared as he is.

"Do you remember?"

"Of course. I remember it all."

"Then why?"

He's getting agitated now. The last few years hadn’t been easy on Fred, but he had a nice upbringing. He was born into a life that FP would never know, the same way Fred would never know his, and he needed him to see that. "I don't have many options, Fred. Not like you."

"You could stay." He offers. "Just tell the Serpents you changed your mind or something."

FP laughs. What else can he do with a statement that naïve? "You can't just walk away from a gang. That's not how it works."

"Well how do you get out?"

"Like this. I join the army, leave for a year or two, come back. There might be some pushback but it'll at least be possible."

"No." Fred shakes his head. "There's got to be another way."

He spares him the bloody visuals and opts to just say the cut and dry facts. "Look, if I stay, it won't be pretty. And if they find out about us... they might try to take you down with me. I can't do that to you."

"You can work with me?" Fred places a hand on FP's arm. "I'll talk to Bob. I know they're always hiring."

"You’re not listening!" His voice crescendos to an uncomfortable volume before he is suddenly overcome with shame. How many times had he and his old man defaulted into a yelling match? This was Fred he was talking to, not his father. "This is the only chance I have."

"Please." His eyes searching deep within FP. "At least sleep here tonight."

FP looks down and closes his eyes while he shakes his head. After a breath he says the opposite of what he wants. "I can't."

If he wakes up next to Fred, he knows he won’t be able to leave in the morning. It was why he had pushed back this goodbye for so long. He was the only person who could talk him out of going, the only reason he had to stay.

"F..." the name falls from Fred’s lips and they both think how amazing it is that a single letter can hold so much emotion.

FP keeps his eyes fixed on the ground because he knows this is what has to happen. He knew this goodbye would be the hardest, but he could never have anticipated just how difficult it would be to walk away from Fred. "I should get going."

Fred's hand reaches for him but grasps the air as FP takes a step back towards the door. But he can’t let him go like that. No. This time he reaches out a little further, his fingers gliding over the calloused skin of FP’s hand. He doesn’t pull or beg, but that small touch of skin is enough for FP to hesitate. The part of him that is touching Fred’s hand tingles with electricity, it beckons him closer. He takes a step forward and completely melts into Fred’s embrace. They stand there in silence, motionlessly slow dancing together.

Years of memories flood his mind and he feels like they're in high school again. A single moment of hands brushing against each other. Congratulatory hugs that lingered just a little too long. Hearts pounding as they wonder if years of friendship are clouding their judgement. Experimenting in the chemistry lab during lunch.

And for the second time that evening, Fred realizes he’s thinking about the exact same thing. "You remember?"

FP can hear the rush of blood pulsing through his veins. He shuts his eyes and Fred can see the base of his lashes shimmering with tears. He nods. "Of course. I remember it all."

Fred rests his forehead against FP’s. They sway slightly as their bodies relax into one another. “Is this what you want?”

A nod. “Yes.”

“You want me tonight?”

“Yes.”

In a second Fred has him pinned against the wall as their bodies frantically become reacquainted. Their lips reunited in a flurry of lust and longing. “I’ve missed you.”

"Fuck..." FP breathes back into his open mouth as Fred slips a hand into his waistband. He follows the curve of his hip until he reaches the back of his pants. His hand slowly slides down FP's ass, cupping his left cheek gently in his palm. Without warning he tightens his grip causing FP to let out a quiet moan. "Fred..."

He pulls away with a smile. FP can see Fred’s damp lips in the dim moonlight streaming through the kitchen window. “Hmm?”

"Bed?" FP begs as his legs begin to shake. His heart is racing and oh my God, was he wrong earlier. This was nothing like high school - this was so much better.

"No. Not yet." Even in high school, Fred had been something of a tease. FP was always left satisfied but lusting for more.

He brings his left arm around to the other side of FP's body and slowly begins to move both hands down his back. He starts at his neck and follows the curved path until he's right at the base of FP’s ribs. As their mouths break apart, FP lets out the faintest of laughs. Fred loves the way the vibration transfers into his own body and tickles his tender skin.

He begins to lower himself until he’s kneeling in front of him. As he does so FP wraps his fingers around Fred's hair and gives it a playful tug. Fred wasn’t the only one who knew how to find the most sensitive areas. He moans as his hands continue their journey down FP's back. They separate when he reaches the curve of his ass and then begin to travel down each leg. Fred moves with tender precession over his thighs and FP gives his hair another tug. "Keep going."

"But they're my favorite." He says breathlessly as he kisses his right leg. Then the left. He had always been a mess over the way FP's pants stretched so tightly around his upper legs. Years of football training left him with thighs so thick that finding pants was a near impossible task. The thought alone was enough for Fred to feel his own member twitch against his pants. He promises his thighs that he'll be back and then continues his way down FP's legs.

When Fred reaches FP’s ankles, he begins to trace both hands up the inside seam. He moves excruciatingly slow, but FP doesn’t care because he wants the sensation to last as long as possible. He wants this moment with his love to never end. FP’s legs spread instinctively once he reaches his knees, and the adjustment grants Fred access to the most sensitive part of his leg. He tilts his head back against the wall as Fred’s hands follow the line of his groin and then come to settle back at the top of his pants.

  
“Now?”

“Wait.” Fred unbuttons the front of FP’s pants and grabs the zipper between his teeth. His mouth rubs against the bulge in his pants as he does so. He moves his head down and can hear the sound of the zipper’s metal teeth separating. Once he’s reached the bottom, he begins to pull FP’s pants down. They snag on his legs and Fred has to give them a strong tug to get them over the swell of his thighs.

“Fuck me.” FP’s hands are grasping at the wall behind him. Nails digging into the textured wallpaper as he stands nearly naked.

Fred begins to pull at the elastic waistband of FP’s briefs but stops. He could hardly see anything in the little light that was streaming in, but he recognized what he was wearing the second his hands grazed the satin texture. “Oh, Cadet Jones…I don’t think these are military approved underwear.”

“Wore them…” he has to pause to catch his breath. “…for you…”

“Upstairs.” It’s more of a command than an ask but either way FP is happy to oblige. Fred takes his hand and they move quickly up the stairs and into his bedroom. FP nearly knocks over the bedside lamp when Fred pushes him towards the mattress. The light upstairs was brighter, and now Fred could fully make out the lace underwear he had bought FP a few years earlier. Fred is next to him in a second, their legs becoming intertwined as their mouths trace over each other’s skin.

“God, those look so good on you.” Fred’s hand travels towards FP’s ass and he gently moves his fingertips over the laced fabric.

FP pulls away from where he’s kissing only so he can whisper, “…want you, Freddie.”

Their bodies thrust together desperate for a primal connectivity. FP reaches down to touch himself as Fred finally takes off his own pants. FP had been right early – Fred wasn’t wearing anything underneath the plaid bottoms. He lets out a whimper as Fred lays back down next to him, his hand taking the place of where FP’s was. Fred slowly begins to stroke FP’s erect cock. FP kisses Fred’s exposed skin, only pausing periodically when he can’t suppress a moan any longer. FP’s mouth opens wide and the warmth of his gasping breath sends blood rushing to every part of Fred’s body.

They continue like that for an insurmountable length of time. The silence only broken when FP mutters “Inside me…I need you inside me…”

For as much as Fred teases in foreplay, he always delivers and gives his lover exactly what he wants in the end. Fred’s hand continues to stroke him as FP moves onto all fours. He rocks in sync to Fred’s rhythm, but FP’s arms give out after a while and he lets his upper body lean into the mattress, his cheek pressed firmly against a pillow. “Army’s going to bulk you up.”

Their bodies magnetize together until FP can feel himself getting closer to the edge. He wants to ride the moment forever, but he can’t hold on much longer. “I-I’m….”

“Me too.” Fred leans his own head back as he pushes FP’s further into the pillow. His other hand continues to pump FP’s cock as they both grunt and gasp their own sweet aroma. Their breathing becomes indiscernible from one another. "Do you think anyone in the army is going to fuck you like I do?"

"No." FP's voice is muffled as his cheek is pressed deeper into the pillow.

"No what?"

"N-n-no…" his breath is hitching. The words get caught up in his throat as he inhales sharply trying to ride the edge a little longer. "N-no sir."

And then they're both undone. Falling into each other, a crumpled mess of sweat and skin. An intoxicating nostalgia fills the air and for a brief moment they forget where they are. They could be 16 again, exploring their bodies for the first time. 36 and married, having just bought a house together. Hell, maybe they’re in their 60s, two lifetimes of love wrapped around one another. In this moment they are frozen in another dimension. Time doesn’t exist – they are whole together.

Their bodies are so intertwined that in the darkness FP doesn’t know if he's looking at his own hand or Fred's. He wiggles his fingers and watches as the shadows move along with them.

"Stay." Fred pleads as he pulls FP's body into his own. They both know he can’t, but they let the thought linger in the air. In the silence they both mourn what could have been and what will never be.

* * *

 

He waits. He waits until Fred has fallen asleep. His warm breath tickling the back of his neck, an arm protectively draped over his torso begging him to stay. He gently moves the hand off and then plants a kiss on Fred's temple.

It wasn't the first time he had snuck out of the Andrews' house; he navigates the creaky floorboards masterfully.

The sound of his motorcycle roaring to life probably wakes him but he can't think about that right now. He hops onto the bike and speeds off without looking to see if his bedroom light has flickered on yet.

He's only a few miles out of town when he comes across a pay phone.

"Hello?" The voice on the other line is foggy. He glances at his watch. Shit. He didn’t realize it was so late, he hadn't planned to stay at Fred's for so long.

"Hey uh...Mary it's me." He wonders if it’s too late to hang up.

She talks through a hoarse yawn. "FP? What's wrong?"

"Nothing.” He shouldn’t be calling her at this hour but all he can think about is Fred waking up in an empty bed. “I need a favor.”

She must be able to hear something in his voice because instead of hanging up immediately, she just dryly answers, "Really?...it's three..."

"It’s Fred."

He can tell she's more alert now. Everyone loved Fred but the connection Mary had with him was special. "What about Fred?"

"He needs you."

"What – is he okay – what happened?”

"Nothing. Nothing happened…just…” He wraps the metallic cord around his wrist and pulls tightly, watching his hand begin to fill with blood. “…can you check on him. Look after him for me."

"Why don’t you?"

"I'm leaving...for a little bit..."

"What? FP. Where are you going?"

"It doesn’t matter." He twists the cable more until his hand starts to go numb. "You've always been a good friend to him."

"FP, if you..."

"Mary, please." He cuts her off abruptly. He doesn’t know how much time is left on the call and he’s out of change. "I need to know. Will you keep an eye on Fred? He’s going to need you."

"Yes. Of course. It's done." There's a pause. "Just...please be careful, okay? He needs you too."

“I will.” He’s about to hang up the phone when he remembers the time. 3:03am, it was officially tomorrow. "Merry Christmas, Mary."

"Merry Christmas, FP."

He untwines the cable and feels the blood rushing through his veins once again.

**Author's Note:**

> thank you to the amazing beam sunshine that is jugheadjones/fredheads for helping me with the story.


End file.
